


Memory

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Poetry, Post-War of the Ring, heavy symbolism., no rhyme, very little rhythm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-quest Frodo poem, somewhat angsty.  Warning: no rhyme, very little rhythm, heavy symbolism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

The children play, running about in the fields  
The sun beats down, with a smile on His face  
The rain comes pleasantly, and is warmly accepted  
Flowers blow in the breeze.

The birds are singing in the treetops so high  
The buds of the flowers open their eyes  
To see the beauty of this autumn day.  
They do not have to worry about anything  
For the flowers have no troubles.  
At least, they did not.

The flowers were loved and cared for by all  
They were the pride of every Hobbit lad and lass  
‘Twas a thing of beauty to wake up each morning to see  
The dew on the delicate petals of the roses in the garden.  
Ah, how I long for those days!

The flowers were not happy to be trampled on  
‘Twas quite a change from the care they used to have.  
The flowers did not want to be dug out of their soil  
They were happy there. And all the other flowers  
And all the Hobbit lads and lasses  
Were happy too.  
But you can not control what happens to flowers:  
Some think they can, but they can’t.  
It is all in the hands of the sun and the rain and the soil and the seed.  
And if the seed does not like the soil in which it has landed  
There is no way it will grow.

I miss the days, when, long ago  
Children played in the grass and slipped in the dew.  
I miss the days before all the flowers were uprooted and trampled on  
Before they were forced to live in a world where they wanted to die.

I miss the days where live was a thing I wanted to live.  
When I hadn’t a care in the world  
And not a scar to disprove that.  
Ah, how things have changed now!

I remember the days before the flowers were uprooted  
Before the clouds came that carried a rainstorm that no flower wanted to withstand.  
It was sunny then.  
The flowers grew, and the flowers prospered.

I wish I could live in my memories.  
I wish I could live with the flowers who were so happy  
Who can once again be happy  
I wish I could stay  
But I cannot live in memories.  
It is time for this flower to find new soil.  
And in time, its petals to shed, and bid them farewell as they drop towards the ground.

 


End file.
